Fanny Lye Deliver'd

Her name was Fanny Lye.

But she weren't the same woman then.

She'd only known the land, the toil,

and the war, of course,

washing over her like waves of fire.

Horse's arse!

Her husband, Captain John,

he came in '46 with Cromwell's army.

Bought her master's farm at auction.

Soon had more than he bargained for.

There was a kind of love between 'em.

Some shared affection, I suppose.

Though the Captain's first love was the Holy Book,

an 'abit he acquired in his youth adventuring for the Dutch.

In '49, the war was done, and the King, he lost his head.

It seemed to us that anything was possible, for a time.

For Fanny, though, the seasons came and went.

Blackhill Farm, from eastern hedge to western wood, was her world.

Till the day the strangers came.

Turned that whole world upside down,

and delivered Fanny Lye from one life...

into the next.

Whoa. Whoa.

Captain John, he'd planted a special crop inside her belly,

a boy who grew as this new England grew up all around.

Handsome boy.

Arthur, his father's son,

too young to know the war, he was a soft and playful soul.

Where's my stick? I can't find it!

'Twas where you left it, sir.

Arthur?

Arthur, where did you put my coif?

Get a move on.

- Else we'll be late for worship. - Arthur, if you go on...

And don't forget that cauldron.

I don't understand it.

I'm sure I left it on the chair...

Why!

Arthur, it's filthy! Oh, Arthur!

- Do you wanna try me, eh? - Father! Father!

Hey! Oi! We'll have none of that.

What do you think you're playing at, girl? Get a move on.

Go on.

Never let a woman best you, boy. Have I taught you nothing?

You've got to show the Lord more spirit than that, you know.

Yes, sir.

Good boy.

As Fanny readied for church that morning,

she had no way to know it was the very last time

her family would ascend that hill

and worship on the Lord's day together.

Fanny?

Instead, her mind turned to a verse of Scripture

learned her as a child.

"Bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things,

endures all things."

Come on, Arthur.

The sermon was the usual sort,

and Fanny headed home thinking more of what to sup than any lesson learned.

Then the farm came into view and John said...

Did you leave that fire burning?

I don't reckon.

Had they turned back round and sought the Constable,

as in hindsight would've been wise,

who can say how Fanny's life might've worked out different?

But there is a strange attraction held by danger... and the unknown.

Come on. Good lad.

Who goes there?

Whoa, whoa, whoa, sir.

Begging your pardon. I don't mean no harm.

What the devil are you doing in my barn, eh?

Why, you arrant thief! Those are my clothes you're wearing!

I'll teach thee manners!

Please, sir, begging your pardon.

I'll send thee back to Satan!

Sir, if you give me a chance to speak.

We was beset upon the road.

Do you believe you can dance into a man's farm and make like home?

A man's home is his castle!

I've every right to put you down.

Please, my wife, sir. Please, my wife.

- I can explain. - Let him speak, sir.

Well, stop babbling, boy.

What's this about a wife?

My wife, sir, er...

You see,

last eve, we was travelling on the road to Gloucester,

headed from there to Bristol and a boat to the New World.

We was carrying all our savings, all we had in the world,

looking to make a fresh start, see? A new beginning.

But alas, it was not to be.

You see, as the dusk fell,

we was beset by villainous highwaymen.

It's a true misfortune, woe betold.

They stripped us of all we had, our horses, every last groat,

down to the shoes on our feet and the shirts on our backs.

Since then, we've been moving all night, sir, no idea where we was headed,

when we comes upon this fine home, quite by chance, like.

Well, if there'd been an answer when I'd knocked but...

My wife, sir, she's exhausted and cold and...

she couldn't take it no more.

And without clothes, you understand.

And I am sorry for the liberty, sir. Truly, I am.

Never would I wish to impose upon another.

But... given these rare and unhappy circumstances,

we was left with no other choice in the matter.

Where's your wife now?

She's, er... she's resting up there in the perch. Apologies.

Fanny?

You be careful now.

Come and look, sir.

Arthur? Give me my stick.

You try it, anything,

and I'll slit your gullet from ear to ear

- before you can draw breath. - Understood, sir.

- I promise, my intentions is fair. - Yeah.

You sure she's not sick?

No. Just exhausted, like I told it.

Well, she looks healthy enough.

It's like I told it.

You watch where you feast your eyes, John Lye.

You mind your mouth, girl.

Them marks might turn nasty.

- I'll go make up a salve. - That's awful good of you, ma'am.

- Be much appreciated. - Go on, now.

- What's your name, boy? - Thomas Ashbury. Pleased to meet you.

Newlyweds, are you?

Aye. Well, yeah, we been married four month.

Sit.

Where do you hail from, Thomas?

I'm of Salisbury. Born and bred.

And your wife?

Oh, a...

a village near Westchester, name of Nettlebred.

Husbandman? Artisan?

I am... Well, I was...

a travelling cooper.

And a soldier, for a time, in General Cromwell's army.

Oh, a good old cause.

I played my part against the Scots and the Irish.

Putting down the popish swine.

You served too, sir?

Captain John Lye, for Henry Ireton,

Regiment of Horse.

Well, I suppose I should salute.

Arthur! Come away from that door!

Seven years on his service, from Edge Hill to Drogheda.

If it weren't for this leg...

- Drogheda, you say? - That's right.

Come on!

It was an unfortunate business, if ever I laid eyes.

I don't believe God doth view it so.

Sit down, mind your business, boy.

Spirited lad.

Aye, well, you've got to teach them by the Lord's example.

Psalm and prayer.

Spare the rod at your peril.

So...

to the matter at hand.

We're at thy mercy, sir.

Well, seeing as it's the Lord's day,

and with the girl, and you being a brother-in-arms and all,

I'll allow you to stay.

- Till the morning. - Thank you very much, sir.

We're much obliged.

Course, you have to spend the night in the barn with the mice.

That'll be just fine.

Thank you, sir. One night is all we ask.

And tomorrow, after breakfast, we'll ride on to Ludlow,

which is eight miles east of here,

and you can report your misfortune to the Constable.

Oh...

Well, er, thank you, sir, but, erm...

it wouldn't be right to impose on you such a journey.

We'll be fed and on our way in the morning, no bother.

It is no bother. Think nothing of it.

To speak frankly, sir,

I don't know what no constable can do for us.

Can he magic back our savings?

Or our horses?

No, I think not.

Therefore, I don't quite see the benefit.

It isn't just yourself, now, is it? 'Tis a matter of law and order.

And as the Good Lord says,

"He that hath friends must show himself friendly."

So that's my offer.

And we accept gratefully. Thank ye.

Aye.

And so it was that Thomas Ashbury and myself,

for I was the young woman in the barn, as you might've guessed,

came to enjoy the hospitality of Mr and Mrs John Lye.

Her touch was firm but gentle,

pulling me slowly back up towards the world.

I was a child again in my mother's arms.

Then the cold of the balm

causing a shifting state.

Something wrong,

be it angel or demon, holds me in its grasp.

- What? - Hello.

Who be...?